The Hoods

The HR people were all wearing their hoods today. It's RIF time and we had to let some people go just to make Wall Street happy.

Like most big companies, we tend to recruit HR folks from the sorority equivalent of the Skull and Bones made famous by President Bush. Their society is so secret that only their supreme acolytes know the real name of thing.

I actually dated one of these protoHood chicks in college. Don't ask me how I know, but she had a t-shirt in her panty drawer that depicted a praying mantis eating it's mate. Fuck, I get the shivers just thinking about it.

Thing is, we need the Hoods when there is dirty work to do. They don't ask questions and they execute without remorse. And when you turn them on each other? It's like friggin girl-on-girl vampire scary, dude. But the next day, it's like nothing happened and they'll show you pictures of their kids at a soccer game.

Frankly, I hate this part of the job. We're making money now, for Christ's sake. So when the analysts aren't looking, I'll sneak the hoods back in and have them see who we can hire back.